


Congratulations, You're a Dad

by belovedhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Related, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hunter Dean, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, One Night Stands, Slow Burn, Teacher Sam, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedhell/pseuds/belovedhell
Summary: Sam met Dean at a bar and had a one night stand with him. Weeks later, Dean returned, both pissed off and hurt. He was pregnant with Sam's child and needed his support since he had no one else. Sam was overjoyed with the news of having Dean back in his life and having a child altogether. However, Dean made it perfectly clear that he didn't want a relationship with Sam since their first time was a mistake.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like writing... Comments and Kudos are lovely and appreciated.

_Love sometimes wasn't easy to find, in fact, it was difficult now a days. People preferred one night stands and wanted nothing more than to have fun. Now there were people who made mistakes and accidentally knock up a person. Sam was one of them..._

Sam sighed as he finally finished grading papers, taking a major toll on him. Being a history professor at Stanford was Sam's dream job, and yet, the spark from his job left a few years ago... teaching for eight years would do that to a person.

Getting up from his desk, Sam took off his thick, black glasses so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He felt old— when in reality— Sam was merely twenty-nine. "I need a drink," Sam mumbled to himself as he left his work study.

Currently, he was in his two-bedroom apartment; Sam got lucky with the place. It was spacious and more than enough room for Sam to have his own small workout gym. Not only that, but it was next to campus, where he worked and walked every day.

Turning on the lights from the living room, all Sam could hear was the A/C unit on. Nothing else. Nobody else. No girlfriend or boyfriend. No one. Sam frowned; deep down he wished he could be in a relationship with someone. Yet, it was difficult. No one would give Sam the time of the day. Sam wasn't bad looking— something that he would constantly tell himself— he just looked too lanky.

The thick glasses didn't help his image, then his hair was too long, Sam had to keep it in a ponytail every now and then. His clothes were always out of style and the suits he would use for work were the only thing decent. Also, there was his personality: Sam would babble a lot when he would talk to people. Something about having a conversation with someone else would always excite Sam, thereby he would embarrass himself, accidentally. With the final result being, Sam wouldn't get a second date.

"Think I'm going to a bar." Yes. Sam needed a drink. Something that would take his mind off from all the loneliness that surrounded him. Besides, it was nice to go out and socialize a bit, meaning he was probably going to get drunk and talk with the bartender. Again.

Sam snatched his keys from the coffee table and grabbed his black blazer from the coat hanger. Yup, getting a drink would certainly calm his nerves.

* * *

Sam entered a bar where loud music was blazing across the hall. A crowd in the center dancing and drinking altogether from different ages. No doubt some of his students were present. Rolling his eyes, Sam made his way to the bar's counter, where the music wouldn't reach his ears. He sat down on a stool and ordered whisky from female bartender.

As he waited, Sam glanced across the counter and saw a stranger drinking shots like nothing. He was a few seats away from Sam, then again, almost everybody was on dance floor so the stools were empty. Leaving Sam and this mysterious man just sitting there alone.

Sam grimaced as he saw three empty shots already laying in front of the guy. This guy was going to get a bad hangover the next day. Sam wasn't like that, right? No. He was only getting one— or two— drinks, then heading back home to sleep.

"Hell yeah! That's good stuff. Sweety, how about another one?" the stranger winked at the bartender.

Sam watched in amusement as the bartender chuckled. "I think you had enough, Dean," the bartender said as she shook her head, gathering all the empty shots in a dish basket. She wiped the counter with an old rag, while looking at Dean with a smile.

So, that was his name? _Dean_.

The bar was rather dim; Sam couldn't get a good look on Dean's face. He could lean closer, but he didn't want to look like a stalker. Sam was already weird as it was. Also because... Dean looked like he could easily kick his lanky ass.

Dean chuckled, "Nah. I can hold my liquor down. What I haven't had enough was you, Cassie." Dean must have been there for a while since he already knew the girl's name. Smooth.

Sam accidentally let out a laugh— Fuck! He tried to cover his mouth but it was too late. Dean turned to his side to see who was laughing, his eyes were narrowed for a second before it softened upon spotting the culprit. "You have a nice smile, man."

Okay, Sam was caught off guard by the compliment. He expected Dean to be pissed off, but he wasn't. Realizing that Dean was still looking at him, perhaps waiting for a respond. Sam cleared his throat, then said, "Uh, thanks?" Quickly he shifted his gaze away and awkwardly fixed his glasses. Now, Sam was staring straight ahead, looking at his reflection from behind the alcohol bottles.

Shit. He was getting flustered.

"Hear you go, sir," the bartender— well, Cassie— placed his whiskey in front of him. Sam thanked her and lifted his drink to inspect it— and to distract himself. Sam didn't even notice that Dean took the empty spot beside him, until he gazed at his reflection again. He saw Dean sitting next to him.

"So, what are you drinking?" Dean asked, his voice slightly slurred, but still enough to somewhat understand him.

"Whiskey," Sam replied, feeling awkward by the situation. Dean was talking to him and this time Sam didn't start the conversation. At least he had company, might as well make it fun. "How are you still sitting straight? You just had three shots," Sam wondered. Honestly, he was shocked that Dean could properly walk without staggering.

"Actually, it was five shots. What can I say? Tequila and me get along just fine," Dean mused. "And, I'm about to get another drink. Watch this!" Getting Cassie's attention, he asked in a sexy tone, "Can I get another beer? I'll make sure you get an excellent tip." Dean wriggled his eyebrows seductively.

"Fine. Just one beer, and that's it," Cassie huffed, twisting off the cap and handed the bottle to Dean. She just couldn't say no to him.

Sam was amused. "You're good." He took a sip of his whiskey, feeling the burn sensation hit his throat. "...Wow." Sam scrunched his eyes tightly, "Has been a while since I tasted one of these." He started to recall that he wasn't even fond of this type of beverage. Why did he order it?

Sensing an opportunity to have stronger drink, Dean said, "Want to switch? Don't mine." Dean didn't give Sam a chance answer as he picked up his drink and gulped it down in one go. Fuck. Good stuff.

"Wai— Sure, you can have it—" Sam had no choice but to get Dean's drink instead, since his whiskey was flowing down Dean's throat. Beer was fine— a little grateful even— but he was just surprised that Dean drank his drink. Wasn't he aware of the dangers lurking around when it came to alcohol?

Slapping the glass on the counter, Dean grinned. "Good stuff!" Well, that was what Sam thought Dean said, but it sounded more like, "Ood tuff." Dean was probably already wasted. Glad he took the whiskey then.

Sam couldn't help but stare at Dean closely. Now he could see his features. His green eyes were memorizing, and they popped out more due to his long eyelashes. Whenever his eyes fluttered, Sam's heart would beat every time. Dean was extremely handsome. God... and the freckles looked amazing on his skin. Sam could stare at Dean all day.

Upon closer look, Dean appeared to be a few years younger than Sam, maybe three or four year difference. He was wearing a leather jacket— which appeared a bit to big for Dean— and his blond hair was spiked in a certain angle that gave off a cool vibe. Either way, Dean was an attractive young man. Anyone would be lucky to have someone like Dean. Shit... Sam would worship him.

"How come you're not dancing?" Sam asked, curiously.

Dean grinned. "I'm a shitty dancer. Rather be here drinking my sorrows." Slowly, he leaned forward to Sam's side.

Sam's lips quirked downwards upon hearing the word _sorrow_. Before Sam could stop himself from saying any more he asked another question. "Did something happen?" Maybe he could give advice to Dean. As a teacher, he was trained for such emotional issues to help anybody.

Hesitation flickered across Dean, then answered, "My dad died a few weeks ago. He's all I had so..." Shrugging his shoulders, Dean discreetly took away Sam's drink— which was originally his— and began to drink it.

Sam didn't mind.

"Oh— I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He was a stubborn jackass," Dean admitted, while playing the beer's label. Dean hated talking about his feelings, but with alcohol affecting his brain, he didn't care at the moment. Everything was already spinning and he could feel himself loosen up. This was how Dean grieved, by drinking his sorrows and not give a damn about anything.

"I'm sure he loved you very much," Sam offered, then placed his hand on his shoulder for comfort without thinking. "Erm, sorry—" Sam snatched his hand back and averted his gaze, a blush stained his cheeks.

Dean looked amused and then he smirked mischievously. "Don't be. You seem like a nice guy. Looking to get laid tonight?" he asked bluntly. Sam had to concentrate on his slur words. Did he hear correctly? Was Dean offering him... No couldn't be true.

"Uh, what?" Sam straightened his back as he stared at Dean in disbelief.

"What do you say we get out of here and have fun?" Dean whispered into his ear— Holy shit! When did Dean get so close? Before Sam could respond, Dean paid the drinks and then left his stool. He swayed his hips as he exited the bar, giving Sam a perfect view of his gorgeous ass.

Sam gulped, debating. Not sure what he should do. Fuck it. He needed to get laid, and a fucking hot guy was offering sex. Sam would be damned if he let this opportunity go.

Swiftly, he followed Dean outside, praying to god it wasn't too late. However, as he stepped foot on the sidewalk, he saw Dean leaning against the wall like a damn pro.

"What took you so long?"


End file.
